“Actually, I was expecting a call from you about Colonel Thomas.”
“Fuck Colonel Thomas! What kinda fucking joke were you trying to play, leaving those assholes behind?”
Frowning, Cheyenne stepped away from the front door and turned around to look at the other magicals through the window. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t give me that shit. I talked to four goddamn guards at that prison who all said they saw you in there two hours ago.”
“Well, yeah, Guy. I’m pretty easy to remember when I walk into a room. Or a prison.”
Sir growled on the other end of the line, followed by a clang of something heavy smashing against the wall. “I don’t know how the hell you did it, but I know you didn’t do it alone. You better have a coherent explanation for why a dozen beat-up, bloody, shit-covered magicals that aren’t in our records are sitting at the bottom of the dunk tank where Vinny used to be in chains.”
“Vinny?”
“The fucking giant lizard with four arms, Cheyenne!”
She forced back a laugh and pulled the phone slightly away from her ear. “Right. You’re not gonna like it, but I don’t have an explanation.”
“I swear on every single strand of hair growing from—”
“Your wife’s head? You know, I’m not sure Alice would appreciate being the center of so much swearing, Guy.”
“Shut the hell up. Who are the goddamn dipshits in that tank, halfling?”
Cheyenne looked at Corian through the window, and he met her gaze. “Trust me, they’re all the kind of criminals you want in that prison.”
“Criminals.”
“Yeah. And I bet they’re really good friends with the same assholes who kidnapped all those kids. You’re welcome. Now tell me you have something useful to say while you have me on the phone.”
“Shit.” Sir grunted, and the clink of ice swirling in a glass came over the line. “I’d rather eat my Aunt Bertha’s two-week-old meatloaf than tell you this.”
“But I’m right about the colonel,” Cheyenne muttered, a small smile blooming on her lips.
“I think you might be onto something, halfling. Might be. Don’t get the two confused.”
“What did you find?”
“It’s what found me.” Sir took a long sip of what she could only assume was his early-afternoon whiskey. “As soon as I heard about our second escaped convict in the last two weeks, both of which I’m pinning on your halfling ass, by the way, I got a call from Colonel Thomas. He wants to talk to you. In person.”
Cheyenne turned away from the restaurant to stare across the street. “No shit.”
“No shit.” Sir growled something unintelligible into the phone and knocked back his drink with a loud gulp. “The meeting’s been scheduled for seven o’clock tonight on base. You better believe he’ll be grinding your ass into the floor to figure out what you know about this goddamn prisoner escape. Maybe I’ll get in line.”
“Honestly, you’ll probably be waiting a while.”
“Don’t fuck this up, Cheyenne. And don’t conveniently forget to tell me whatever the hell you find out at this little meeting, you hear me? If you find anything that proves your theory, I sure as shit better hear about it.”
“Yeah, I hear you.”
“Promise me, halfling.”
“Hey, I’m not making any promises ‘til after I get a good look at the guy.” Great. And now I sound like Venga.
“Well, make sure you bring your goddamn glasses, then!” With a roar of frustration, Sir slammed the phone down, and the line went dead.
Cheyenne stared at her cell. Colonel Thomas works fast too, apparently. So now he gets to try to figure out how much I know, and I get to prove he’s a traitor asshole who’s been selling me out to the Bull’s Head the whole damn time.
The glass door to the burger joint opened, and Corian led the procession of human-disguised magicals out to the sidewalk to join her. “How did that conversation go?”
She stuck her phone back into her pocket and folded her arms. “Peachy. How many Crown loyalists did you port into that giant tank to leave as a parting gift?”
The nightstalker shrugged. “All of them.”
“All the magicals you guys tortured and locked up in the warehouse basement?”
He leaned in and whispered, “Yes, Cheyenne. All of them. I wanted them off my hands.”
“Well, you picked the right way to do it. Better than sending them blind and deaf across the Border or dead.”
“We both know I don’t need your approval for these types of decisions, kid.”
She scoffed. “Obviously.”
He held the door open for the rest of their group and nodded. “But I’m glad I have it.”
“Yeah, okay.” Shaking her head, Cheyenne nodded at Ember floating out of the restaurant, and her smile faded. “You okay, Em?”
“Me? Sure.” The fae shrugged. “I’m not a huge fan of walking around outside DC with our new death-magic friend, but whatever.”
“Well, if it helps at all, I think it’s awesome.”
Ember shot her a confused look. “What’s awesome?”
“That you jumped into this thing with both feet. That you were about to start threatening the magical who engineered the blight so he’d promise to clean up his mess. Your Healer’s showing, Em.”
“Very funny.” Ember floated past her but couldn’t completely hide her smile. “So, how did that conversation go?”
“With Sir?” Cheyenne shrugged. “Well, it got me a meeting with the colonel, so I’d say overall, it was fairly productive.”
“Wow. That was fast.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Gotta be on base at seven tonight. I was asked for by name, apparently.”
Maleshi joined them on the other side of Cheyenne. “Anything you need from us before that happens?”
“You mean besides nobody else getting broken out of jail or sucked into curses or exiled from places where it would really be useful to have them around?” The halfling snorted. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”
“All right, kid. Well, when you know what needs to happen next,
